Between Mismatched Socks And Suit Jackets
by NonaRose
Summary: After multiple adoptions that failed through because of one or both parents changing their minds, Regina Mills decided on a closed adoption as a last resort. She was promised she wouldn't have to worry about either parents when she adopted her daughter, and then the biological father showed up at her doorstep a few months later, demanding to be a part of the child's life. OQ AU
1. Starting Point

**A/N:** After multiple adoptions that failed through because of one or both parents changing their minds, Regina Mills decided on a closed adoption instead as a last resort. She was promised she wouldn't have to worry about either parents when she finalized her daughter's adoption, and then the biological father showed up at her doorstep a few months later, demanding to be a part of the child's life. Now years of co-parenting and they still couldn't stand one another, but for how long before fate gets in the way?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

* * *

This wasn't what she was promised—another weekend without her daughter. Another long, lonely night in an empty apartment with nothing to keep her company but a mischievous cat who used her toes as chew toys and a half-empty bottle of Malbec.

But this is what she got.

And it was a significant agreement, whether she willed herself to admit it or not. Having Charlotte with her at all times, save for a few weekends every once in a while, was so much better than not having her at all, or having her for a day or two during the week.

Nevertheless, it wasn't what she signed up.

When Regina adopted her after years of prior adoptions that never went through and the pain and frustration of being put back on the waiting list, she was reassured that she wouldn't have to worry about this mother changing her mind, or the father at all. He wasn't in the picture. Still yet, she should've double-checked, should've dug further into it and trusted the hunch that told her something didn't feel quite right. But she didn't, and he showed up at her door three months later, seeming as dumbstruck as she was.

He was oblivious, he told her. He didn't know he had a child out there and he wouldn't have if it wasn't for Charlotte's biological mother being consumed by the guilt of secrecy and coming forward to him with it. Their relationship was nothing more than a pastime, he didn't expect anything from it; no love, certainly not a child. But now that he knew about Charlotte, as unprepared as he was, he wanted to be a part of her life.

She could've slammed the door on his face and taken the matter to court, however, it would've been a long, painful and expensive process, and as much as she did love her daughter, she wasn't financially prepared for the fight. And things might've not worked out in her favor anyways.

She decided to put her selfishness aside and be civil, and that's how she ended up co-parenting her daughter alongside Robin Locksley, CEO of Arrows Architects, for the past eight years.

It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't terrible. They clashed over certain, silly things at times, and while she couldn't stand his snobby existence, she had to give him credit for being a great father. As busy as he was, he made his daughter his priority, attending every school play he was invited to, every parent-teacher conference and showing up to doctors' appointments whenever Charlotte insisted on it.

It made Charlotte happy and her happiness was all that mattered.

Even if it meant spending gloomy days and nights like this.

"Ouch!" Regina hissed, using one foot to push the cat off of the other, but the way her toes wiggled against the white furball's stomach only excited it, resulting in its claws and fangs digging deeper into her skin. "Sir Jingles!" she exclaimed. "I swear to God—fuck, let go!"

A whole minute of grunting, cursing the day she decided bringing him home was a good idea, nudging him away with her hand and flailing her leg did the job. Sir Jingles walked away with grace and flopped in front of her, licking at his fur with innocence, as if he'd not just left fresh scratches on her.

It wasn't the first time he'd done something like that—he often bit her feet whenever she was sitting down or clung to her legs as she walked, almost tripping her, and she'd been smacked on the face more times than she could count by him and jumped on while asleep. For what reason? She had absolutely no idea. He just did what he did whenever he did it.

Sir Jingles, as ridiculous as his name was, owned the place, and her soul probably, too.

"You do that one more time," she warned, gritting her teeth in anger as she inspected the scrapes. Fortunately, they weren't too bad. They'll fade in time, unlike the ones he previously left on her right ankle, upper thigh and a few places on both her arms. He grazed her deep enough to leave behind scars.

The funny thing about the whole ordeal was that he only did it to her.

He never once harmed Charlotte, not even unintentionally while being the playful, ball of energy that he sometimes was, or any of the guests that dropped by, he barely even acknowledged them.

She, the one that fed him, changed his litter, bathed him, took him to every vet appointment, had to endure all the torture.

"You're not sleeping with me tonight," Regina stated, receiving a meow in return. She shook her head and got up, grabbed the wine bottle and her glass, and popped the last piece of chocolate into her mouth. "You're sleeping right here, and you're gonna think long and hard about what you did to me—and I swear to God, Jingles, if you break another vase, you'll be in your Halloween costume for an entire week. Don't test me, kitty."

Sir Jingles merely mewled once more, then followed her as she put aside the wine, rinsed the glass and headed to her bedroom, instantly crying and scratching at the door the second it closed after her, leaving him outside.

After years of ignoring her own daughter's temper tantrums as a toddler and letting her cry herself to sleep, his meows weren't anything she couldn't handle. She slept right through them.

* * *

The day was rolling along slower than it usually did, one minute felt like an eternity and the arrows on the damned wall clock just didn't seem to want to budge from one number to the other.

It's only been three hours since Regina came into work and it felt as though a lifetime had gone by, and she did absolutely nothing but wait around for someone to walk in, anyone she could tend to and service.

No one did.

The boutique was booming once, clients storming in and out, purchasing whatever was in stock and raving about it to others. She barely had enough time to sit down and scratch her head then, now she had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with.

Her business was going downhill, that was the reality and she was yet to grasp it. Because if she did, she'd have to accept the fact that her store would close down and she'd lose her job, and jobs with decent pays weren't easy to find, and without one she wouldn't be able to care for her daughter.

But that wasn't the only thing she had to stress over.

She was in the midst of stacking up the new arrivals back in the storage room when she got a phone call from Charlotte's school, urging her to come over. Her daughter—her sweet, gentle, obedient daughter had gotten into a fight with another student. Not only did she drop swear words no nine-year-old should know of, but she got physical, too, throwing punches and pulling hair.

Great. One more thing to worry about.

That and the fact that she wasn't sure how to approach the situation.

Should she march right into the principal's office with squared shoulders and a glare fixed over her features, or should she be cool, calm and collected as her mother had always been? No, she shouldn't take her mother as an example of a good parent. Cora let her taste wine at the age of seven and forgot her at the grocery store more times than she remembered her.

So that's a definite no.

Regina stepped out of her old, beaten up, black Mercedes Benz and smoothed out the wrinkles on her short, a-line, white skirt and adjusted the knot on her chambray top, making sure it was tightened and the buttons on it were secured in place. Being told off by one of the teachers or whoever else gained pleasure by criticizing and suffocating others with their preachings for showing teeny-weeny bit of skin was something she just couldn't deal with at the moment.

She straightened her shoulders and schooled her features into a pokerface. Mean Regina, that's who and what she was going to be. Mean and stern. But as she stepped into the principal's office, the wind was knocked out of her and everything she took from her mental pep talk disappeared.

Robin.

It's been a while since they'd seen one another and been in the same place at the same time as the other. Since Charlotte's ninth birthday to be precise; ten months, two weeks and six days ago.

He was different—gone was the clean shaven face, replaced by a nicely trimmed stubble, and his dark blond hair was graying. It suited him better, not that she would say it aloud and compliment him. As attractive as he was, she still had some self-respect, and he was the man she's supposed to hate. He teased her over her curly hair, asked her whether her comb had broken yet, and he made fun of her whenever he had the opportunity to over whatever he could think of. So yes, he was goddamn attractive but she couldn't stand him.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled.

"Obviously, I came to continue my learning, milady," Robin shot back, making no attempt to hide his smug smile, which only grew wider at her frustrated grunt, bearing his deep dimples on either of his cheeks. "I came because our daughter seems to have gotten herself into some trouble."

Almost nine years of sharing a child and she still wasn't used to him referring to Charlotte as theirs. It was weird.

She sat on the opposite side of him and crossed her legs, her arms folded over her chest and a permanent glare fixed over her face. She came unprepared, unsure of how to handle the situation, and Robin's presence wasn't going to make it any better, not when she knew he wouldn't miss the chance to find a fault in whatever her move would be.

Mrs. Tremaine, the school's headmistress, joined them right before an argument had the chance to flare between the two of them over Regina claiming he wasn't needed around and she could handle it all on her own, and Robin begging to differ.

According to Ava, the other student involved in the fight, Charlotte lost her mind and attacked her out of the blue, and being one of the popular girls, she had others backing up her story. Regina stifled a snort at that and fought the urge to roll her eyes. What else would she expect from the little brat who claimed she was gaining a bit of weight when she last saw her during the bake sale?

Charlotte's version of the story was different, though. Ava was making fun of her, taunting her in front of the entire class, something she'd apparently been doing for a long time, and just like that, she snapped and tackled her.

While Regina didn't pardon her daughter's behavior, she definitely wasn't going to ground her as she decided she would earlier.

Ava had it coming.

No one should ever mess with a Mills—well, a Mills-Locksley in this case.

* * *

"And then I sat on her back and pulled her hair and she cried!" Charlotte chortled and Regina laughed beside her, earning a disapproving glare from Robin.

"Don't encourage that behavior," he chastised.

"I'm not encouraging anything. I'm just praising her over putting that brat in her place," she justified with a shrug.

"And that's exactly how you're encouraging her."

"And that's exactly how you're encouraging her," she mocked. "Stop being so snooty. Our daughter was just bullied and put an end to it. If anything, you should be proud she stood up to that little shit—"

"Regina!"

"You're a killjoy," she muttered under her breath, then gave Charlotte a wink, who responded with a giggle and scooted closer to her side.

They made their way to Granny's; a lovely, local diner not far from Regina's apartment, and Robin absolutely loathed it. Which, of course, was the only reason Regina loved it.

The food was decent, a little too fatty, incredibly unhealthy and most certainly not freshly made everyday. She wasn't mad about it, but she loved that it was Charlotte's favorite place. She loved the way Robin groaned every time Granny's was mentioned and the way he'd sulk like a little child all the while being there, or the forced bites he would swallow whenever their daughter would offer him some of her chocolate chip pancakes dripping with maple syrup or the deep-fried chicken tenders, insisting he has it with some honey mustard. Both things she learned he hated—honey and mustard. He couldn't refuse her and Regina would be lying if she said she wasn't getting the kick out of seeing that.

So, it was safe to say this time wasn't any different.

He was scowling down at the menu while she grinned across him, her chin resting atop of her palm as she thoroughly enjoyed the sight. She wasn't a sadist, not at all, but she did take pleasure in seeing him suffer, however it might be.

"Hey, Charlie?" Regina began, nodding her chin toward Granny's newest special on the menu when her daughter looked up at her—a patty melt with a side of golden french fries and crunchy onion rings. The sandwich was toasted to perfection in a heap of butter and oozed with cheap cheddar cheese, something else Robin despised, and something else she knew Charlotte would simply want to share.

"It's like a grilled cheese with a burger!" Charlotte beamed. "I—"

"Lottie, wait," Robin cut in, clearing his throat and pointing down at the lasagna instead. "What about this? It sounds really, really good."

He was trying, desperate to convince their daughter to settle on something…less greasy, something he'd be able to tolerate, but Charlotte's mind was made up. Much to his dismay, patty melt it was.

As usual, after skimping through the menu back and forth, Robin settled on a cup of the watered-down black coffee the diner offered and a slice of apple pie. Surprise, surprise. Charlotte got her patty melt with a s'mores milkshake, and Regina ordered a plate of mozzarella sticks and bacon-wrapped jalapeño poppers. She wasn't hungry, not in the slightest, she had lunch right before Charlotte's school called, but who in their right mind wouldn't get mozzarella sticks and jalapeño poppers when it's right in front of them?

Definitely not her.

Just as Regina suspected, Charlotte happily shared some of her food with her father, urging him to take a bigger bite when he took a small nibble out of the corner of the sandwich, purposely aiming just for the crust.

It took everything in her not to laugh at his discomfort, the way his face twisted at the second bite and the little whimper she almost missed when he swallowed it, quickly cleansing his palate with some of the coffee and a bite of the pie.

Marvelous.

She'd put up with him any day as long as she'd get to witness that every time.

* * *

They didn't have a specific schedule they went by when it came to who had Charlotte on which day and for how long, not anymore. It stopped when she was around five-years-old, when she began making up her own mind and whether she wanted to spend these certain days at Robin's or not. Most times, she went completely against what they planned.

To avoid the temper tantrums she often threw, they eventually let her choose.

It was hard, it took some time getting used to it—the weekends were usually for Robin and Regina had her during the weekdays, and suddenly that changed. Charlotte spent some weekends with her, some with Robin, and sometimes she'd stay a day or two longer, or change her mind in the middle of the week and switch.

Surprisingly, it was a lot easier, it was less stressful and they quickly fell into a pattern. And the fact that her school was close by to both their homes made things even better. For a little while, though, their only issue and disagreement fell on the holidays and how she'd spent them.

Regina's only living family members were her mother, her half-brother, her sister-in-law and nephew, and they lived in another state. So for Easter, while her family went down to spend the day at her brother's in-laws, Robin had Charlotte, and she spent it alone at her apartment with takeout.

His family was a large one; multiple siblings and their spouses, nieces and nephews Charlotte could play and go on egg hunts with, and grandparents that doted on her and spoiled her rotten. So, Easter was an easy call.

They had Independence Day together, sometimes they'd spend it at her mother's with her brother and his family, and sometimes it would just be the two of them plus Robin at his house with his over the top, high-quality, expensive hotdogs and burger patties.

Halloween was a family outing, much to her and Robin's dismay, and Thanksgiving varied. Last year was at Robin's family house, where Charlotte insisted she tags along rather than stay at her apartment alone. Refusing was not an option, and although Regina was sure it would be awkward, filled with uncomfortable, short answers and forced conversations with his family, it was anything but that.

The Locksley's were kind and welcoming and she quickly became friends with most of them, and his parents were the English version of her mother. Happy-go-lucky, witty and amusing.

But Christmas time was where they clashed.

It was the most important time of the year and the only time her family bothered coming down to visit her. It was a tradition of sort, where they'd drop by a week before Christmas and stay with her, and they'll spend the days baking cookies and cakes enough to fill up a small village and catch up on each other's lives, and on Christmas Eve, they'll huddle up in her small kitchen at the crack of dawn and cook up a feast.

So, Regina wanted Christmas Eve with Charlotte.

Selfishly, Christmas Day, too.

She wanted to be woken up by her daughter in the early hours of the morning, dragged into the living-room to open up the gifts Santa Claus left her. She wanted to see the happiness in her face when she rips into her gifts and finds what she'd been wishing for. And so did Robin.

After years of arguing back and forth, years of taking both days to herself, she stepped down and stopped acting so greedy, agreeing to alternate the years between them.

Regina rang the doorbell to Robin's house and knocked when no one answered. She'd been waiting for the past five minutes, impatiently shifting her weight from one foot to the other and huffing. She was exhausted, too tired she could fall asleep standing up, and she wasn't supposed to be the one picking up Charlotte, he was meant to drop her by. But it was nearly sunset and she hadn't heard anything from him. She called and texted and, of course, typical Robin read and ignored her messages.

"That stupid, good-for-nothing assho—"

Her phone rang with an incoming call, interrupting her with a scowl.

Speaking of the devil. Robin was calling. Finally.

"About time," she bit as she answered, leaning against his front door. "I called you over a hundred times."

"Fourteen times actually, and I think about ten texts or eleven, one of them is you calling me a useless baboon with that red, angry emoji."

"And you ignored every single one of them. How mature."

"I'm sorry, I was in a meeting."

"But you still managed to read every text I sent without even bothering to reply to any, not even with one word. You could've at least told me that you were busy—you know what, never mind." She calmed herself with a deep breath. There was a headache throbbing in the front of her head and she couldn't stand without swaying back and forth out of exhaustion, he was not worth getting herself all worked up. "I'm outside your house and no one's answering. Don't you, like, have a butler or something of that sort?"

"No…I don't, and no one's answering is because no one's home."

"What?"

"I…well…I kinda forgot to tell you that…um…my mom has Charlotte…"

"You forgot what?"

"Mom stopped by earlier to drop something and then decided she wanted to take her shopping…I think, I'm not quite sure really."

Regina wasn't sure what was getting on her nerves worse—the fact that he had no idea where their daughter was or what she was up to, or that he failed to mention she wasn't around to be picked up. He could've saved her the trouble of driving across the city and she would've been in bed instead.

"They shouldn't be long, though, mum knows better than to keep Charlotte past her bedtime on a school day. Why don't you wait around my place until they're back?"

"How am I supposed to get in without a key, through the window?"

"No, we wouldn't want you hurting your little self now, would we?"

"I've climbed through dozens of windows back in the day, thank you very much."

"So you're admitting that you were some sort of a thief growing up?"

She sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled, but no amount of breathing meditation would help if he continued. Too worn out to argue, she gritted, "Just tell me how, dimwit."

He laughed then, a relaxed sound she didn't get to hear often. He was all too downbeat and unhumorous, and he was usually ready with another retort, calling her a pillock or a muppet, whatever either of them meant.

"If you're facing the door, on your far right there should be a small fairy garden. See it?"

How could she not? It stood out amongst everything that chic and luxurious. It was put together in a large, rustic-looking bucket and filled to the brim with dirt, on the surface was a house made out of different sized twigs, glued and held together with twine, and the rooftop was scattered with bits of moss. There were succulents and grass, and little rocks that made a pathway, and an archway with micro fairy lights wrapped over it, going all the way around it and the small, makeshift pond, too. There were tiny pots made out of clay with different flowers in different colors planted in them and a hand-painted welcome sign placed by the entrance.

It was simply significant.

"Regina, are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I got a bit distracted. So, the fairy garden, I see it."

"Alright, there's a pot of blue baby breaths. You'll find the spare key under it, it's in a hole."

There were purple and white baby breath flowers, multiple of them, but there was only one pot with pastel blue ones, and she didn't even notice that until he mentioned them. It was clever, she'll admit that. Smarter than placing it under the doormat or a fake rock—no one could possibly be stupid enough not to be able to tell the difference between a real and a fake one.

Well, not quite. She could think of a few who would mistaken it for any other rock.

"Found it."

"Wonderful. Make yourself at home. Mom should be back with Lottie in a bit but I've got to go back to work now. Talk to you later."

* * *

It was huge, a mansion rather than a regular house, but Regina didn't expect anything less from a successful person like himself. He didn't gloat, though, that's one thing she noticed about Robin. He was picky about his food and often complained about the little things he wasn't used to, but only to her, never out loud. He never criticized someone's dish and called it disgusting to their face, not even Granny's, he merely smiled and ate it, then grumbled about how unhealthy it was on the way out between the two of them, and he never went around waving all the money he had in front of those less fortunate than him. He was humble, he gave more than he took.

He built himself an empire worth millions and yet, their daughter's birthdays were never too lavish. There were no ponies or petting zoos, and no four-tiered cakes made by overpriced bakeries or five-stars catering companies. Her gifts weren't everything she wanted, however, they didn't hold back completely, they gave her just enough without coddling her too much.

Being the curious person that she was, Regina explored the place. There were more rooms than one who lived alone needed, five were locked away and two were his and Charlotte's. His bedroom was just how she expected it would be, big, lacking colors and…excitement. It was a combination of the colors black, white and gray. Elegant but simple. Far too simple for her liking.

Charlotte's bedroom, though, was the complete opposite of boring. It wasn't pink nor was it purple and pastel, it was a lively shade of blue that resembled the sky with painted grass and flowers all across the bottom of the walls. Her bed was designed to imitate a tent, white exterior with beige bedsheets and bright, yellow star stickers sprinkled on the inside of it. She had a desk on one side with papers and crayons scattered over it and a dollhouse on the other. It was handcrafted, Charlotte told her. Robin made it especially for her—the miniature furniture in it, too, and his mother happily sewed together a few of the tiny clothes for her dolls.

It was staggering, and thoughtful of him.

Both of the living rooms downstairs and upstairs were massive, and the kitchen was breathtaking with its marbled countertop and mahogany cabinets and, unlike her own, they were all still intact. But none of that came close to how gorgeous his backyard was. It was something she'd only seen on the internet and home decor magazines. Everything was green and there were rose bushes in shades she'd never seen before, and a treehouse in the making.

The patio was equally as stunning with the comfy looking, sepia sectional and its multi-colored green cushions to the fire pit in the center of it. She'd happily lounge on the sofa with a refreshing strawberry-lemon mojito after a dip in the swimming pool.

Regina hummed in thought and stepped closer to the edge of the swimming pool, admiring the little ripples caused by the gentle breeze blowing. She'd never seen water as clear before, certainly not swimming pool water, but this looked pure and it was tempting her to discard her clothes and jump in in her underwear. She wouldn't, no. Charlotte would be back anytime soon and they'll be on their way and—

"Oh, God!"

Her train of thoughts was disturbed by a sudden feeling of being tackled from behind and her yelp was muffled with a loud splash! as she hit the water. She emerged with a gasp and flailed, trying to keep herself at the surface while pushing her wet strands out of her face and trying to clear her blurred vision. And then she saw him.

The one-hundred-ten pounds Bernese Mountain dog, panting and staring down at her.

"Rufus!"

* * *

Cats were always her favorite.

Sure, they were water-hating demons in the shape of furballs that adored biting and clawing for fun, but that's all they did. They scratched, ate and slept. She didn't have to worry much with Sir Jingles, he was easy to handle. He got a little messy? No worries, he'd clean himself without trouble. A little bored? A single pen would entertain him for hours—or until he slept again. He didn't even require walks, and he certainly would not shove her right into a swimming pool.

Rufus, on the other hand, did. And judging by the way he licked her face and traipsed around her as she slogged inside with her drenched clothes, leaving a trail of water behind, he didn't care.

"No, that was very rude," Regina scolded, narrowing her eyes at the dog and earning a whine in return. "I understand that sometimes you get a little too excited, but that does not mean you push people into water, Rufus." She spoke as if he understood, chastising as if harsh words would knock some sense into him. It wouldn't, and she knew better than to waste her breath talking to the gentle beast but she did anyways.

She shed off her soaked clothes, removing every last piece and dropping it to the ground with a flop. Great. She should be home, in the comfort of her bed, not naked in the house of the man she loathed because his dog decided he wanted to play. She gathered the garments in her arms and rammed them into the dryer with a huff, murmuring curses under her breath.

She padded out of the laundry room and hurried upstairs to Robin's bedroom—whatever he had in the closet would have to do for a little while. The last thing she wanted was to flash whoever returned first, be it his mother and Charlotte or him. So, button-down shirt and Calvin Klein boxer briefs it was.

"It's not the greatest," she muttered, eyeing her reflection from head to toe. The shirt was…blah, a simple white one with nothing interesting happening to it and it just barely covered the upper part of her thighs, but the boxers were really comfortable. She might just steal one from him, not that he would notice, he had over dozens of identical ones in his drawer.

* * *

He promised her his mother wouldn't be long with their daughter, he promised her they'd be on their way before the sun was fully set, and then his mother's car broke down.

It wasn't something he planned, obviously, but he did predict it in a way. His mother's car was old and she stubbornly refused to upgrade it for a new vehicle, refused the idea of it all together and not only him spending money over it, so it was just a matter of time before it stopped working. Though, Robin had to admit, he was surprised it lasted as long as it did.

Nonetheless, it annoyed him.

He had to cut his meeting short and call it a day, and he was certain Regina would be fuming by the time they're back, greeting him with her poisoning tongue and spitting vicious words his way. Well, nothing out of the ordinary at least. He was expecting that, but what he didn't expect was the sight that welcomed him.

Regina, cladded in nothing but his shirt, passed out on his couch with a half empty bowl of popcorn on one side and Rufus laying next to her on the other. The dog was alert, perking up at their presence but remaining still, as though he was being careful not to wake her up.

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

"Is…there something you'd like to share, darling?" His mother spoke, startling him back to reality and reminding him that he wasn't alone in the room. "Are you two…" she trailed off and Robin's eyes grew twice as wide.

"God, no. No, no we're not," he stammered. "I—I don't know why she's, you know, like that." He gestured at Regina.

"So, she randomly came into your house, stripped out of her clothes and into your shirt and fell asleep on your couch?"

Well, no.

He wouldn't assume that's what happened, however, before he had the chance to answer her, Charlotte walked in with her shopping bags in tow, her head tilting slightly to the side and her brows creasing at her mother's sleeping figure.

"What's mom doing here…and why is she wearing your shirt?" she asked. And truly, he was asking himself the same question.

What was she doing in his shirt?

Luckily, his mother, his saving grace, took Charlotte away before she had the chance to bombard him with more questions, ones he most likely wouldn't have been able to answer with a straight face, or answer at all.

But what was Regina doing in his shirt anyways? It wasn't what he envisioned when he asked her to make herself at home.

"You're not planning on waking her up, are you?"

"Jesus, mom!" Robin hissed, almost jumping out of his skin. He laid a hand over his chest and exhaled a huff. "You don't sneak up on people like that." What was she even doing beside him? She was up with Charlotte not even a minute ago. Good Heavens!

"Sorry," she muttered, half-assed with a shrug of her shoulders. "But you aren't really considering it, are you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because she's fast asleep, and the poor thing must be exhausted because that position cannot be comfortable."

She wasn't wrong. Sleeping with her legs tucked underneath her and her head tipped back against the couch couldn't be comfortable.

"Let her sleep," she insisted. "Charlotte's halfway through getting ready for bed anyways. Just listen to your mother for once, darling, and great things will happen."

* * *

His mother left and Charlotte was in bed, and he was still staring at Regina, debating on whether he should let her sleep or wake her up.

He let her sleep.

She looked peaceful, content and, for once, calm in his presence—Robin wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so relaxed before, she was always tensed around him, ready to lash out at any moment. And she looked small in his shirt, he couldn't help but smile a bit.

There wasn't a trace of makeup on her face and that made her even prettier than she was, not that he would say it out loud and boost her ego, but she was. Her skin was glowing, her cheeks had a natural blush to them and her freckles were adorable. Her hair, even though he made fun of it once just for the laughs, it was beautiful, too. The curls suited her better than her usual straightened hair did, but she was stunning regardless.

And that position simply couldn't be comfortable.

Robin grimaced at the way her neck was angled and sighed, moving closer and carefully scooping her up in his arms with a light bounce and a stifled grunt. She wasn't heavy but all the time he spent building Charlotte's treehouse was taking a toll on his back.

Regina stirred, muttering incoherently as her head lolled back, but she stayed asleep the entire little journey up the stairs and into one of the many guest rooms, she didn't even flinch a muscle when he laid her down and tucked her in.

"She really is knackered," he muttered to himself with a quiet chuckle, pulling the blankets all the way up to her shoulders.

He should get off the edge of the bed and leave, close the door behind him and end the night. There was one problem, though—he was enamored.

He was utterly captivated by her, couldn't look away even if he tried. It was a strange feeling, especially considering it was toward her, the woman who made sure to get on his every last nerve, and it was one he'd never felt before, one he couldn't pinpoint and describe.

His heart felt heavy but not with grief, his stomach flopped and it wasn't in the way it did when he learned about Charlotte's existence, not in worry or fear. It was different. It wasn't a feeling he dreaded but instead, he almost…welcomed.

He reached forward and tucked a strand behind her ear, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the small, subconscious one she gave in her sleep.

He liked her. He liked her a lot. And God help him, was in trouble for that.


	2. High Jinks

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own anything aside from my dumb ideas.

* * *

It began as an innocent spoof.

Robin was too focused on the mountain of paperworks piled up in front of him, completely oblivious to his surroundings, and Regina couldn't possibly pass up on the opportunity of scaring him. So she did.

There was no real reason behind what she did—she simply felt like it.

The sound that left him was unlike anything she'd ever heard coming from him before, high-pitched and screechy. She bursted out in a fit of giggles then, and it only intensified at his anger, leaving her red in the face and breathless. It was hilarious, but, that wasn't the end of it.

It started a war she wasn't prepared for.

Robin returned the favor a week after the incident.

She was in the midst of getting ready for a blind date when he dropped by to pick up Charlotte and keep her with him for the night. She didn't hear him come in, didn't hear their daughter's usual _Daddy!_ either. It wasn't until he jumped from behind her and screamed that she was aware of his presence. Only then, it was a little too late.

They stared at each other with wide eyes for what seemed like forever, hers in surprise and his in horror, and a good chunk of her right brow was gone, no thanks to him for frightening her in the middle of grooming it.

There was a reason why she never attempted it on her own with a razor before. She always feared messing up, and the time she finally mustered up a bit of courage to do it, _he_ happened.

Needless to say, her date was cancelled and she spent the night enduring both his and their daughter's not-so-quiet snickers. On the bright side though, they spoiled her. Dinner was an extra cheesy pepperoni pizza with mushrooms from her favorite pizzeria across her building, along with a pint of _Ben & Jerry's Salted Caramel Core_, and they even sat through her sobs during _Titanic_ without any complaints, passing her tissues every now and then.

The second time it happened, it was as surprising as the first.

All the years she'd known Robin for, he was never the playful type that would go around pulling pranks on others. He was aloof and closed off, only smiled around and at the mention of Charlie, or whenever life screwed her over—that sadistic bastard. But it was Halloween, and she was sitting on her couch with a nice glass of red wine filled to the brim, because God only knew just how badly she needed that after spending hours trick-or-treating with him complaining beside her about every little thing—who on earth would criticize _children_ over dressing as certain characters? Him, of course. No surprise there.

He offered to read Charlie a bedtime story before heading home, and she sat in front of the television, staring intently with bulging eyes at the bright screen, intrigued yet jittery—maybe watching _The Conjuring_ wasn't the greatest idea after all. She wasn't the most courageous person and she knew it, but she was daring and curious, and she often regretted it.

And she did that night, too.

She was clutching tightly onto the glass, holding her breath at the sight of small hands emerging out of the closet, parting and then pressing together into a clap. The first clap sent shivers down her spine, and when the second one came along, the fucking bastard jumped up from behind the couch with a shout, startling her. She screamed at the top of her lungs and spilled the wine all over her favorite _white_ pajamas.

If only that was the last of it though.

The third time it happened, he was sick with a high fever. He was still in bed well after noon, something very unlike him, and refused food and ignored phone calls.

Being the good, kindhearted person that Regina was, she dropped by to check on him. She even made him her mother's hearty chicken noodle soup and, in spite of his complaints, force-fed him. He ate a little more than half of the bowl before pushing her away with a grumble, mumbled something incoherently as he buried himself under the mountain of pillows and thick, fuzzy blankets again. She left him undisturbed then and huddled up on the living room's couch with a blanket of her own, some snacks and Rufus by her side. But two packs of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and half an hour of idly browsing through Netflix, boredom struck and she found herself in the laundry room instead, folding away clothes.

She could've left after checking on him— _that_ was the plan all along. Check on Robin, make sure he's fed, and then leave. But she didn't—mistake number…well, she'd lost count at that point.

She was halfway done with the laundry, filled one basket with his clothes and turned around swiftly to pick up the other and fill it with Charlie's, when she smacked right into someone…in a mutilated, bloodied mask.

Needless to say, it didn't end well.

She screamed and tumbled back into the basket, and continued screaming and smacking Robin's hands away even after he discarded the mask and repeatedly reassured her in between wheezy laughs that it was only him, throwing in half-assed apologies into his sentences.

* * *

It happened twice more before Regina finally drew the line. Once when he showed up early in the morning to drop off Charlie to school after her car broke down, and he decided it would be hilarious to scare her in the midst of brushing her teeth—she almost choked to death.

The other time it happened, she stopped by to pick up their daughter from his place after she spent the weekend away visiting his side of the family, and the jerk jumped from behind the door the second she stepped inside.

She ended up screaming and smacking him in the face. It was an accident, truly, but she didn't apologize for it. It was well-deserved.

So, payback was only fair. But he was always one step ahead of her. Every little thing she thought of seemed predictable. Every time she hid behind a door or around a corner, he found her, and every time she set up a prank, he figured it out.

It was frustrating.

Until Charlie's ninth birthday came around.

Robin was all over the place, trying his best to ensure everything was perfect for their daughter's birthday party. He was stressed, going around double-checking things—calling up the catering company to confirm the menu he selected with adjustments he made, too, and his mother every five minutes, asking for her whereabouts and hoping she'd deliver the three-tiered Snow White-inspired cake in one piece, and making sure Rufus wouldn't knock over the party favor's table or bite a hole in the bouncy castle her rented for the day.

In other words, he was distracted.

And distracted Robin meant she could easily prank him. Finally.

Regina waited though. Victory will be hers and it'll be sweet, there was no need to rush it. She took her time, greeted the guests and made small talks with them, all the while keeping an eye on Robin. Her smile growing wider every time he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair—a habit, she discovered not so long ago, he did whenever he was tensed.

Wonderful.

That'll be double the fun.

* * *

"What flavors did you settle on?" Regina asked, nodding her chin toward the beautifully put together cake as she stood by Robin's side, hiding her smug smile behind the square of brownie she was munching on.

"Vanilla sponge with raspberry and cream filling, chocolate sponge with chocolate hazelnut filling—"

"You mean Nutella?"

"I said what I said, Mills," he grumbled, and she rolled her eyes. "And lemon sponge with vanilla buttercream filling and fresh berries," he continued, and _oh_.

Lemon and berries was her favorite combination. And he knew that.

He'd known her for nine years. It couldn't have possibly been a coincidence, of all the flavors that were available, for him to choose that one.

It was sweet. Aside from his irritating pranks lately, he was being sweet—which, thinking about it, was incredibly weird. And she almost backed out of her plans.

 _Almost._

"Nice," she muttered, taking a big bite of the chocolatey goodness.

While Robin was looking over the dessert table once again, rearranging the small cups of pudding and Jell-O, and making sure the cupcakes were all lined up nicely, Regina shifted closer to him. She slipped a hand into her pocket and retrieved a toy tarantula. It was huge, eerily resembling the real thing with its furry exterior, and if there was one thing Robin Locksley was deathly afraid of, it was spiders. No matter how small the creatures could be, they terrified him.

Sneakily, she pressed a hand to the upper part of his trousers and stuck the toy to his side. She cleared her throat, then pointed at the bowl of small cookies decorated with a dollop of colorful icing in an attempt to seem less suspicious. "What's this?"

"What?" He followed her gaze, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "Oh, those are called _Iced Gems_. Lottie loves them."

"And they are…?" she prompted.

"Little biscuits with some sort of icing on top. Royal icing, I presume…though, I'm not entirely sure—"

"What's _that_?" she interrupted with a loud gasp, pointing at his pants.

"What's what—oh, God!" he shouted, his eyes bulging, and it took everything in her to keep a straight face.

It wasn't nearly as easy as suppressing a laugh in the middle of a serious conversation, or seeming remorseful to avoid punishment at school. It was difficult, especially when he began jumping in his place and clouting at his trousers repeatedly to swat away the toy, while at the same time, doing his very best to avoid any contact with it. She howled with laughter.

"This isn't funny!" He exclaimed.

"You're right, it isn't. I'm sorry."

Oh, but it was. It really was.

"Well, don't just stand there. Help me with this monster!"

Regina wheezed. A _monster._

She joined him, carelessly whacking along and purposely straying away from the tarantula. Having him frantically slap around his pants was far too hilarious to put an in to it so soon.

Oh. Even _better_.

"Take it off."

"What?"

"Take off our pants. This thing isn't budging, Robin."

Although he seemed hesitant—and rightfully so, they were in the middle of his backyard with dozens of guests present—he was also desperate. So he unfastened his belt, quickly pulled down his pants in one go and kicked it aside, eliciting gasps from their company.

Robin bolted inside, hands in front of him as he passed by the giggling children and the horror-stricken parents, and Regina stood with his pants in hand and a triumphant smile. He had it coming after all the hell he put her through, nearly giving her one heart attack after another.

And it was only the beginning.


	3. Head Over Heels

**A/N:** Regina gets hurt, Robin rushes to the hospital, and confessions ensue.

 **A/N2:** Thank you to everyone that took the time to read, review and follow/favorite. It means the world to me!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my mistakes.

* * *

Robin was in the middle of a meeting when his phone rang. His daughter's frantic voice on the other end, begging and pleading with him to come to the hospital. She was in tears, but from what he managed to make out through her sobs and hiccups, she was fine.

However, Regina wasn't.

She had an accident, Charlotte explained, and his heart sank.

It was an odd feeling, a dreadful one. Like the world had stopped spinning.

There were times where he found himself on edge, of course. Scared, insanely so.

He was terrified on the night Regina woke him up with her continuous calls around midnight because their six-months-old was warm to the touch and wouldn't stop wailing. They rushed her to the emergency room and stayed glued to her side until she was cleared to go the next morning. Nothing serious, bless her little heart, she was only teething. And he was distraught the day Charlotte fell off her bicycle for the first time and scraped her knees on the pavement, and while she was fine, he carried her everywhere for the days that followed.

But that feeling, while similar in its way, was different.

He cut his four o'clock meeting short and left, demanding from his secretary to clear the rest of his schedule for the day. The deal he walked out of was important, but the mother of his child mattered more.

* * *

All Charlotte said was that there had been an accident. She didn't elaborate, didn't say whether it was a bad one or not—though, judging by the way she was crying on the phone, it probably was, and his heart clenched at the thought of it. Still, Robin expected a fractured arm or a broken leg with a few bruises and scratches, or both. Nothing more, nothing serious. Until he was told to head down to the Intensive Care Unit by Cora.

He expected the worst. His mind drawing pictures of Regina laying unconscious on the hospital bed, looking small as ever with wires attached to her, hooked up to machines that beeped beside her, tubes inserted to help her breathe and—

"I'm sorry, Sir. You can't go in there."

Robin snapped out of his trance and looked up at the security guard standing between him and the doors leading into where Regina was was. His brows pinched together in annoyance. "What do you mean I can't go in there? I—"

"It's past visitation hours, Sir. I can't allow you in. Just following the rules."

That was stupid. Visitation hours were over at five, and he was less than ten minutes late. It wasn't his fault the drive was long and there was a traffic on the way. "You don't understand, my—"

"I can't let you through," the security guy insisted, emphasizing each word sternly.

Robin huffed irritatedly and walked away, his hand fishing his phone out of his pocket. Cora, she'll know what to do. That crazy bitch always knew what to do in whatever situation life threw her in.

 _"_ _Hello?"_

Thank goodness. "They won't let me in," he grumbled. "I tried. The blasted security guard wouldn't budge."

Cora snorted. _"Just come in through the other door."_

"W—what other door?"

 _"_ _The one they wheel in the patients through. It's the last door down the same hall."_

Robin took a step back and glanced down the corridor, and sure enough, there was another entrance just a few feet away. One, teeny-weeny problem, though. "The doors won't open. Someone has to open it from the _inside_ , Cora."

 _"_ _Patience, Locksley."_

He rolled his eyes. Didn't she already know that patience wasn't really his strong suit? Luckily, his wait only lasted mere seconds. The door opened, revealing his red-faced daughter behind it, beaming excitedly in spite of the evident sadness in her umber eyes.

His scowl disappeared when Charlotte threw herself in his arms, and he wasted no time scooping her up in his arms, planting a kiss to the crown of her head. "How's Mom doing?" he asked, shifting to balance the youngster on his hip. He reached up, tucking a lone, golden curl behind her ear.

"Fine," Charlotte mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder, tiredly rubbing at her eyes. Poor thing. It wasn't too late, but all the crying must've wore her out. "She's laughing a lot, which the nurse keeps getting mad at her over."

Oh, thank god.

She was well enough to laugh, that was a relief. But why the Intensive Care Unit then?

Which reminded him…

Instead of heading straight to the room Regina was in, Robin made his way toward the same security guard. His expression hard as he approached the slim brunet, catching him completely off guard by the looks of his eyes growing twice as wide. "Let me tell you one thing, buddy—"

"How…how did you…" the security guard stuttered, glancing back and forth between Robin and their surrounding in surprise.

"How would you have felt if it was your girlfriend laying in the ICU and you had zero clue about her situation?" Robin snapped, his hand lifting to stop the man from speaking when he opened his mouth. "No, you don't get to say anything. I'm not letting a stupid rule prevent me from seeing the mother of my child and making sure she's alright." He scoffed, shaking his finger at the man as though he was scolding a child. "Not to mention, soothe my daughter."

"Sir, I—"

"No," Robin grumbled, then turned around and walked away, leaving no space for further arguments. To hell with that stupid rule. And to hell with that stupid security guy, too.

That idiot is exactly what he needed to top this _wonderful_ day.

"So…you and Mom are boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

Robin's eyes bulged. His daughter's question stopping him dead in his tracks, forcing him to look at her, only to be met with a knowing smile. "That's not what I—"

"Meant?" Charlotte supplied, lifting both brows. "You like her, I know you do. I think _everyone_ knows except you two."

"It's not like—what do you mean everyone knows?"

"Everyone knows," she repeated, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. "They're betting on who would say it first in your office. I bet my five bucks on you." She grinned, seeming rather proud of herself, and he wasn't sure if he should laugh or fire everyone in the office, and give his daughter a long talk about…all of it.

He went with the former and laughed, out of disbelief.

His entire office, friends and colleagues, and his own daughter, were betting on him and Regina. It truly doesn't get any more comedic than that.

"Guess you won then huh?"

"I knew I would," Charlotte replied with ease. "I know you and Mom better than anyone. I know you're both too stubborn, but Mom is worse."

Robin breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're not wrong."

* * *

Regina was fine. More than fine, really.

She was lively. Chatting away and laughing the entire time Robin was with her, and wincing after every chuckle because of the fractured rib she suffered during the accident. It had to be a bad one to land her right in the Intensive Care Unit—which reminded him to take care of that and all the legal issues revolving the crash. Fix her car, too, while he was at it.

But she was fine, and he was finally able to let go of the breath he was holding ever since the news broke.

A sense of relief washed over him when he saw her awake and responsive, greeting him with one of those stunning smiles. They were always so contagious, making him, and everyone else, smile, too.

By seven, Charlotte left with her grandmother, and Robin stayed to ensure Regina was moved to a more comfortable place. A private room he personally wheeled her to when the nurse struggled and continued bumping the wheelchair into every corner.

He teased her all the way, and she laughed through the pain, surely rolling her eyes, too, whenever he claimed she was far too heavy to push around. She wasn't. She was light as a feather. He would know. He carried her from the couch to the bed countless times before. And carried her and threw her into the swimming pool, too.

"So, girlfriend huh?"

Robin's eyes widened dramatically. How the hell did she know about that? Charlotte was the only one present when he blurted it out in the heat of the moment.

"You forgot to end the call earlier."

"Oh. Well, that would explain how.

"So…" He cleared his throat and scratched the nape of his neck, hesitantly lifting his head to meet her gaze. "You heard… _that_?"

"I heard pretty much everything," Regina confirmed with a nod, her grin growing bigger by the second, and he was certain his face was only flushing deeper.

"That's not what—I didn't—"

"It took you long enough."

Did he…did he hear her right?

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, it took you long enough."

"To…call you my girlfriend?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, shrugging slightly. "Well, that and practically admitting that you like me."

She sounded so smug and proud of herself, but how could he deny it when it was the truth?

He really, really liked her. And so much, he was certain it was something more.

"Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?"

Robin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Those titles were too ludicrous. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Weren't they too old for that?

He felt old…but, perhaps it wasn't.

He rose from the couch positioned in the very corner of the room and padded toward her. His heart racing in his chest, pounding in his ears, and without a second thought, he cupped her face and crashed his mouth over hers. It was a beat before she responded, delicate hand folding over the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and soft lips moving against his, parting for more. He gave in.

And felt stupid for waiting too long.

Nine years too long.

They broke apart and Regina whispered breathlessly, "So?" Her lips just an inch away from his own, and her eyes boring into his.

They were gorgeous, Robin always knew that. Two drops of chocolate that crinkled every time she smiled. But he never noticed how they quite literally had a spark in them until now. So bright, so joyous.

"I'd love nothing more than to be yours," he replied, then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

It was a privilege to be hers.


	4. Sharing Is Caring

**Written for SpookyOQ**

 **Day Six, Saturday**

 **Prompt: Scream**

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not proud of this one, like, at all. But, here it is.**

* * *

Before Charlotte came along, Robin never carved a pumpkin in his life. If anything, he considered it pointless. Where was the fun in spending one's precious hours cutting out holes in something that'll eventually rot and be thrown away? It was nothing but a waste of time and money.

And then it became one of the most important traditions to him.

They would head down to the pumpkin patch—him, Regina and Charlotte—and pick out the best ones, then bring a couple back to his house and drop a few others to Cora's.

With Regina living in the small apartment she was in, there wasn't anywhere for the Jack-o'-lanterns to go. So they'd carve them at Cora's instead and place them out on her front porch.

This time, however, it was a little different.

Cora was out of town and, instead of picking up Regina from her place after breakfast as they usually did, Robin took that opportunity to invite her over to join them. Pestered her until she agreed to get out of bed before eight o'clock, really.

They made Charlotte's favorite seasonal breakfast—pumpkin pancakes with a handful of chocolate chips, because why not? Chocolate chips made everything better, and a hot cocoa with a mountain of mini marshmallows on top.

He made them countless times before, and while there was never a dull moment spent when it came to cooking with Charlotte, Regina certainly made it a tad better. Made it feel like the last piece of the puzzle was finally put in place.

The house was livelier than it ever was. Jokes were thrown around along with some awful, awful puns, and followed by immense amount of laughter. Music of all sorts was blasting, and he even danced to some. Regina Mills, the woman whose very existence once annoyed him to death, got him to dance in the middle of his kitchen. And it was great.

Every second of their morning was wonderful, and their afternoon wasn't any short of that either.

The pumpkin patch was packed with other families. Grownups with young children in tow, running around and laughing, picking the pumpkins they wanted to bring home and taking pictures to make the memories last a lifetime. One particular child caught Robin's attention, though—a little boy not older than one waddling around between the large, rounded plants, curiously grabbing onto everything within his reach. It reminded him so much of Charlotte and just how excited she was for her first, _real_ experience.

She'd learned how to walk a month prior and as soon as she got up, there was no stopping her. She'd run around, get into places he never thought she'd ever able to get into, and it was exhausting. It was absolutely draining to have to be on guard for twenty-four-seven just to make sure she'd be okay, because the little rascal managed to find a way around all the baby-proofing products he installed around the house.

Such a sneaky, little thing—much like his younger self.

"We're done!" Charlotte announced, pulling him out of his trance. He turned around and chuckled at her sight, standing there and carrying more than she could hold of the miniature pumpkins in her arms. She wasn't lying when she said she'd be getting _hundreds_ of them. She seemed quite obsessed with them, raving about how adorable they looked and how much cuter they'll look once they're carved.

"No normal pumpkins?" He asked.

"I've got those," Regina answered, gesturing at the three pumpkins by her feet. Much larger than the ones Charlotte carried, each slightly different than the other, though. One a little wider, one a little longer, and one a little lopsided, but they'll do.

He clasped his hands together with a nod. "All set to head home then?"

Charlotte nodded, skipping between him and Regina. "But can we get a milkshake from Granny's Diner on the way first?"

Dear, God. Not Granny's again.

Robin groaned, and Regina chuckled beside him.

That woman lived off of seeing him miserable in that wretched place. In fact, she lived off of seeing him miserable in general, but he still loved her all the same.

"Fine."

* * *

Thankfully, it was just milkshakes at Granny's. He wasn't forced to bite into something fried and dripping with grease for once, and he owed that to Regina and the lasagna she promised to make them for dinner. A treat, she told him with a wink, something she only did on special occasion, or whenever Charlotte demanded it from her. It was one of her favorite dishes, and if Robin had to be honest, that worried him. A lot.

Charlotte's favorite things were never anything healthy.

But he trusted Regina—she wouldn't leave him starving in his own home.

"We'll start carving while the lasagna bakes, how's that?" Regina suggested, and Charlotte easily agreed. Surprising, considering she was the one who dragged them to the patch a day earlier than they'd planned because she just couldn't wait.

She left the kitchen without another word and called for Rufus to follow her out to the backyard, and Robin slid to Regina's side. "Tell me your secrets," he pleaded with a chuckle. "How'd you get her to agree to that?"

"You said it yourself," Regina said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "it's a secret." She turned to him and shoved an onion in his hand. "Chop these and maybe then I'll consider teaching you some of my tricks."

He laughed then and complied. Chopping it was.

It was an entirely different experience preparing dinner than it was breakfast earlier, and it had a lot to do with the fact that Charlotte wasn't around, giving them the freedom to flirt without boundaries and sneak a few kisses, smooches rather than stolen pecks, in between every task. And Gods, was it difficult keeping his hands all to himself in her presence.

She was breathtaking. He'd known that from the moment he'd seen her, but she came at him so aggressively, and he fought back, stubbornly forcing himself to deny the attraction he felt toward her, because that seemed like the most logical thing to do at the time. It wouldn't give him an outcome that would leave him with a bruised ego.

But that hospital visit nearly a year ago changed everything. That kiss changed everything. And as terrible as it would sound saying it out loud, he was grateful for that day. Certainly not grateful for her injuries, though.

* * *

Something was off.

She carved pumpkins with Robin before and he usually sat there huffing and puffing the entire time or finishing within the first ten minutes and presenting them with the most hideous Jack-o'-lanterns she'd ever seen. But he was quiet. Taking his time, completely engrossed in whatever he was sculpting.

He barely spoke, didn't even acknowledge them as he waved around his knife, looking insanely adorable with the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth and brows knitted.

But it was weird.

"Is…Dad okay?"

Regina glanced over at Charlotte and shrugged. Honestly? She wasn't so sure.

He wasn't drunk. They didn't drink anything while making dinner, and they've been together all day, the only thing he had aside from the hot cocoa at breakfast was the coffee her ordered from Granny's Diner on the way back. But he was acting beside himself.

"I've never seen him so…" Charlotte trailed off, and Regina nodded.

Agreed. She'd never seen him so calm. So interested in something he expressed his annoyance toward many times before.

"Me, too."

He finished last—something Regina didn't expect. He was always done first, and he wasn't his usual grumpy self either. He wasn't scowling down at the pumpkin like it just offended him, he was…smiling.

It was intriguing to say the least. "I never thought I'd live to see the day when you'll actually enjoy carving a pumpkin," she teased, then nodded her chin in his direction. "What did you make?"

Robin sucked in a deep breath, his lower lip caught between his teeth, reminding her of a little child waiting and hoping for approval as he exhaled and turned the pumpkin around, and—oh, wow.

It wasn't at all what she expected. Though, she wasn't sure what she expected to begin with. But not that. Not the words carved out of the pumpkin. The request that had her scream out of excitement.

 _Move In?_

"Are you serious?" Regina asked, breathlessly, all choked up as a whirlwind of emotions consumed her. At his nod, she jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around him, tackling him back to the ground.

He groaned, and she feared she'd hurt his back in the midst of her excitement, but his chuckle reassured her, and the way his arms tightened around her and his lips pressed to her temple, and his words as he whispered, "I can't wait to wake up every day beside you."


	5. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**A/N:** Please excuse my mistakes and kindly point them out! I wrote this real quick and kinda suffered a writer's block along the way, so it's nowhere near being great. And if anyone has any prompts, anything about this crazy family that you'd like to see unfold, let me know!

 **Disclaimer:** I just own my mistakes, nothing else.

* * *

Sharing a home with another person that was a responsible adult rather than a messy ten-year-old was, shockingly enough, not worth the nights Regina stayed up worrying over when Robin asked her to move in back in October.

It was a surprise she never saw coming. Even more surprising was just how fast their relationship was progressing.

The year started off with them bickering over the silliest things and refraining from ripping one another's heads off, and then, not even halfway through, they kissed.

And, of all the places available in the world, their first kiss wasn't as romantic as movies portrayed first kisses to be, or how poetic novels had them written down. It wasn't in the middle of a park sometime around springtime, where the birds would be chirping and kids playing in distance, no smell of blooming flowers surrounding them. It wasn't on a frozen lake in the middle of a winter wonderland, where her teeth would be chattering as the snow would fall around them and the only warmth she'd get would come from within at the feeling of Robin's lips on hers.

 _No_.

Their first kiss was in a stupid hospital room that included immense amount of pain and a lot, _a lot_ of pain medications, where the nurses were constantly walking in and out, providing little to no privacy at all, and the smell—the godawful, distinctive smell of the disinfectant that filled her nostrils and stuck with her an entire day after leaving the place.

Nonetheless—their first kiss was perfect. She wouldn't change a thing about it.

It wasn't long after that incident that they became official. Their first dating taking place at her home. She was in no shape to go anywhere, and he was too stubborn to listen whenever she claimed she was absolutely fine—even though she wasn't—and that she didn't need any help. Thinking back at it, she was grateful he stuck around. Even the simplest things were a struggle with a fractured rib.

And he made pretty darn good pasta.

Months after that, there she was, walking around his _—their_ kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients they needed for their endless batches of cookies, in a pair of pajama shorts and his shirt that she stole. And life was good. Life was great.

* * *

"Do we _really_ need to be making all these cookies?" Robin inquired, brows furrowed as he skimmed through the list Regina wrote down on her pink, apple-shaped Post-it note and stuck it to the fridge.

 _Chocolate chip cookies…Sugar cookies (with and without icing)…Snickerdoodles…Gingerbread cookies…Linzer cookies…Shortbread cookies…_

Oh, goodness gracious. Was she planning on feeding the whole country?

"Yes," Regina replied firmly, shooting him a glare.

He could never be intimidated by her, not in a million years, and most certainly not when she had her hair tied up in a messy bun, and some flour dusted over her forehead and a smear of chocolate on one side of her face. She was far too adorable to be intimidating.

"We're giving away most for friends and family, remember? 'Tis the season to give back," she reminded, and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes.

That was not the case and she knew it. They both knew it. Christmas was just an excuse for her to bake that enormous amount of cookies without feeling guilty over not eating it all and throwing in the trash, or eating it all and worrying over gaining weight.

"Alright," he gave in with a defeated sigh and rolled up his sleeves. If she wanted to drag him into that mess, she'd drag him into that mess—he was never one to say no to her. Or Charlotte, for that matter. He physically was unable of saying no to either of his girls. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'm glad you asked." Regina grinned, and as unsettling as her beam was, he went into the kitchen willingly, stepping beside her as she shoved the box of cookie cutters in front of him and plopped a rolling pin on top of it. "Work on the sugar and gingerbread cookies. Do whatever you wanna do with the gingerbread ones, but—" she paused, shifting closer and pointing at the star-shaped sugar cookie she already cut out, "use the smaller version of each shape to cut out the center, or any shape, really, then fill it with the Jolly Rancher. " She seemed proud of herself as she pointed at the variety of crushed hard candy before showing him the end result on her phone.

"Well, color me impressed," he muttered genuinely. That was a great idea. Brilliant. Props to whoever came up with it.

While he rolled and cut out shapes out of cookie doughs, Regina was hard at work herself, piping out swirls of whipped shortbread cookies onto the lined baking sheet before pressing the back of a teaspoon in the center of each one to fill the small well with jam. She was concentrating. Quiet instead of singing along to the Christmas songs she had blasting in the background like she did every other song before it, brows creased and the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips.

Maybe agreeing to the whole baking thing wasn't such a dreadful idea after all.

"I'm done!" Charlotte announced beside them, smiling at the baking sheet in front of her that was filled with raw balls of snickerdoodles dough. "And I think the chocolate chip cookies are done, too." On cue, the timer went off on the oven.

"I'll get it," Robin offered, slipping the oven mitts on to take the scorching tray out, setting it over the countertop to cool before even attempting to move the soft cookies onto the wire rack. Or, perhaps, sneak a taste. Just to make sure they were baked alright, of course.

Regina's chocolate chip cookies were his favorite. They were addictive—one cannot simply have one or two and be satisfied. He knew, he wolfed down a couple dozens of them in one sitting. In his defense, though, they were bite-sized during that incident. Once he started, he couldn't stop! He was just a human being with no self-control around certain things.

"When's Grandma coming?" Charlotte asked, wiping down her hands over the little apron she wore.

They were meant to spent Christmas Eve alone, just the three of them as a newly formed family, and then Christmas Day with his family and Regina's mother as well. Unfortunately, Cora would be busy the next morning and she waited until the night before to tell them that she accidentally booked herself a cruise ticket after chugging down a bottle of wine a couple of months back.

If it wasn't for the resemblance between Cora and Regina, he would've never believed they were related, let alone, mother and daughter.

While Regina wasn't strict or uptight, she definitely wasn't as crazy as her mother. She had her moments where she'd break into a song out of the blue or decide ice cream would be perfect for breakfast. But Cora, oh, Cora was something else.

Cora walked in on them having sex and proceeded to ask them questions, regular ones, as they scrambled to hide under the blanket. They were shocked, traumatized, but not Cora. Oh, no. Cora stood by the doorframe, asking them silly questions about the decorations in his home, wondering where he bought the bookcase from and so on. They couldn't look her in the eyes, and she acted as if nothing happened.

Still, Cora was a great mother, a wonderful grandmother. She someone anyone would be glad to have at their home, as long as their bedroom doors were locked.

"She said she'd be here by noon," Regina mumbled, then blew at the stubborn curl in the center of her face. Robin chuckled and tucked it behind her ear for her before she ended up blowing the whole damn house down. "Thank you," she breathed out of relief, flashing him a grin.

"You're welcome, darling," he whispered and stole a quick kiss.

* * *

Cats were…alright. They didn't do much, at least, Sir Jingles did nothing aside from sleeping almost all day long. He was a little menace sometimes, though, mostly to her. Running after her whenever she was walking a little faster than usual to attack her feet, growling at them as if they somehow offended him. He broke a few things, not many, and even though he knew _no_ meant he shouldn't be doing whatever he planned on doing, he still did it. But, overall, it was nice having him around whenever he decided to cuddle her rather than bite and scratch her.

However, accepting Sir Jingles did not mean Regina wanted another pet. As much as Charlotte begged for another, Sir Jingles and Rufus were more than enough. The duo did enough damage to the house on their own, adding another to the mix would be a disaster.

And, of course, what did Cora Mills do?

Get another pet as a Christmas present for Charlotte.

"A cat!" Charlotte gasped, her eyes wide as she peered into the box her grandmother brought along. "Oh, he's so cute!"

"Mother!" Regina snapped, her own eyes bulging in disbelief. They discussed that when Cora called a few days ago, asking her what Charlotte might like as a gift, and she specifically told her _no animals_.

"Oh, come on, Regina." Cora rolled her eyes and walked past them into the living room.

"We talked about this," Regina shot back.

"But he was going to be put down." Cora plopped down on the couch and looked back at her with a little pout, as if that would be enough to convince her. Not even Charlotte's pouts worked on her nowadays. "It's Christmas."

"Christmas does not mean grabbing every stray you find and giving it a home."

"But he was going to be put down," Charlotte said, cradling the black cat in her arms. Unlike Sir Jingles, he seemed content, purring loudly rather than squirming to get out of her grasp, staring up at them with wide, green eyes.

"All because people think black cats are a bad omen," Cora added, and Regina shot her a glare. "What?" She shrugged. "It's true."

"Mom, _please_!" Charlotte begged, her lower lip sticking out in a pout, and hell—she lied about that not working on her. It still did. It always did.

Still, Regina stood her ground, arms folding in front of her. "Charlie—"

"Let her," Robin joined along. How was that fair? Three against one? She groaned, leaning into him when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "As long as she takes good care of him."

"I will!" Charlotte swore, nodding rapidly.

"Looking after one pet is hard enough, but three?" Regina asked doubtfully, her lips pursed. So far, Charlotte has kept her word and looked after Sir Jingles and Rufus as much as she could. She was responsible, feeding them, changing the litter and picking the droppings Rufus left behind, even giving them a bath. And bathing a cat was hell. But a third pet might make things spiral out of control. "I don't know…"

"Please?" Charlotte tried again, and dear, God—how on earth was she supposed to say no to that puppy face?

Regina heaved out a deep breath and nodded. "Fine." But before Charlotte could celebrate, she added, "And if he pees anywhere other than in his litter box—"

"I know, I know. I'll clean after him." Charlotte's frown turned upside down, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Mom."

Regina shook her head, nodding at her mother instead. "You should thank your grandmother, she's the one who brought him for you."

"Thank you, Grandma!" Charlotte exclaimed, placing the cat down in order to hug the older woman.

It was quite a warming sight, reminding her again why she loved Christmas so much.

"I hope you haven't brought her a pet, too," Regina grumbled when Robin rested his chin over her shoulder, and he chuckled, his arms tightening around her. "I mean it. If you brought her another cat or a dog, or any goddamn animal, Robin Locksley, you'll be sleeping outside."

"I haven't," he promised in between chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "I promise, sweetheart."

* * *

The night dragged by rather slow and, for once, Regina didn't mind that. She enjoyed every moment spent with her family, especially her mother. They had the oddest mother-daughter relationship and they often fought over that, but she wouldn't change a thing about it. That was what made it so special—how unusual it was. They were best friends and it was perfect.

Dinner wasn't a fancy feast with ham and various sides chased down by the finest bottle of wine. It was as simple as Chinese takeaway and cans of soda, something Robin didn't seem to hate. He ate it all without complaining once over how unhealthy every dish was. Christmas miracles were real, after all. Then came dessert. They sipped their hot cocoa by the fireplace and munched on the cookies they've spent all morning baking while catching up on one another's lives.

Sadly, though, the night had to come to an end. They hugged Cora goodbye and wished her a safe trip, not letting her out of the door without laughing about the cruise incident one last time. Good thing that was all she'd done while drunk and nothing else, nothing worse.

"Picked a name for him?" Regina asked, slumped on the couch against Robin while Charlotte laid on the other end next to Rufus, one cat curled on top of the gentle beast and another on the floor beside them as Elf played on the television for the hundredth time that month alone. Perfect ending to a perfect day.

"Well…" Charlotte mumbled, shifting her attention away from the movie to look at them, "I have one name in mind, but it's kinda stupid…"

"It can't be worse than Sir Jingles," Robin teased, and Regina elbowed his side with a snigger when Charlotte glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. Go on, what is it?"

She had to give it to him, though. Sir Jingles was a stupid name and someone had to say it.

Charlotte looked at them, a little hesitant as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, then muttered, "Mister Cat."

Oh. That was stupid. That was _worse_ than Sir Jingles.

Regina bit her lip to stifle the chuckle threatening to escape as Charlotte hurriedly sat up and lifted the cat off the floor, holding him up in front of them. "Look at him! He's got a little, white mustache. He _looks_ like a Mister Cat."

Maybe not so stupid then. Smart, actually.

"Well—" Regina cleared her throat and hummed, forefinger scratching under the cat's chin, earning her a content purr in return, "welcome to the family, Mister Cat."

"And Merry Christmas," Robin added with a grin.

"And Merry Christmas," Regina repeated, turning her head to look back at him with a smile. "My best Christmas yet."


	6. Midnight Munchies

**A/N:** This chapter was written for OQPromptParty2019.

 **Day Six**

 **Prompt #55 — Robin catches Regina full on dancing around in the kitchen while making dinner.**

* * *

He'd seen her eat so many weird things before, wolf down odd fusions he never thought of putting together in hire life. She would stir ketchup into her bowl of steamed rice or drizzle it over her scrambled eggs, then gobble it down like she'd bee starved for years. There were those and others that weren't half as bad, such as adding sirarcha into her ramen noodles if she wasn't eating them dry or dunking her buttered toast into her tea—he'd done that before—and then there were the extreme combinations that made him question her sanity. She enjoyed her white cheddar popcorn with a nice, warm cup of coffee on the side and nibbled on string cheese with a bowl of frozen grapes. If it wasn't that, it was a hot dog bun slathered in cream cheese spread and strawberry jam, or something as simple as mayonnaise and ketchup mixed together. But that wasn't the worse of it. Oh no. It was the heaping spoonfuls of mayonnaise and cream cheese spread he discovered she added into her famous, white sauce pasta.

That was the last thing he expected from the proud half-Italian woman who scolded him over suggesting to opt for a store-bought marinara once. And the terrible thing about it all was…he fucking loved it. He wasn't proud of it, to admit that he thoroughly enjoyed that pasta, but it was a damn good one. A hearty one. It was his new go-to comfort food with a side of garlic bread.

But it was also the first of April according to the calendar, also mown as the dreadful April Fool's Day. It could very well just be one of her pranks. He'd expect that and much more from her.

"Hey, Lottie?" His voice loud enough just for his daughter to hear as he lowered himself down beside her at the dining table, watching as she responded with hum but never looked up from the book in front of her. "Does your mom always add mayonnaise to that pasta I like?"

"I don't know," Charlotte murmured. "But you hate mayo and she loves pissing you off, so who knows?"

"Right…" She had a good point there. Regina really did enjoying grinding his gears, it seemed to be a form of entertainment to her. "Well, I just saw her mix a massive dollop into the sauce I…really don't wanna take a bite of that," he admitted.

"But?" she urged on, finally turning her attention to him, and he chuckled at how well she knew him to know that there had to a 'but'.

" _But_ I don't wanna upset her or make her think she's an awful cook by refusing her food." Especially a dish he practically begged her to make at times, because on the contrary, Regina was a brilliant cook.

She made dishes from different cuisines, ones he never heard of and others he never had anything quite as tasty as them before, and he visited Michelin-rated restaurants a few times in his life, too. She made a mean lasagna, something he was never a fan of, and an absolutely delicious honey garlic chicken. There were the scones she experimented with not too long ago, too. Those tender, fluffy and oh, so darn buttery scorns that kept him coming back into the kitchen for more. Not to mention, the mouthwatering desserts she made every week out of boredom. As much as he adored his mother's trifle, nothing could compare to the saffron tres leeches cake Regina made. That tiny, little twist added so much to the dessert. Who would've thought a few strands of saffron would elevate a dish like that?

"Then eat it," Charlotte said, matter-of-factly.

"But it has mayonnaise in it, Lottie."

"So does the chocolate cake Mom makes."

Robin's eyes bulged. The monstrosity. "What now?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Mom says it makes it moist."

Oh, god. He lived with a Frankenstein, didn't he?

* * *

"Bon appétit."

Regina's beam was too wide, Robin couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or just her inability to hide her excitement over what might happen should the whole thing end up being nothing more than an April Fool's prank after all.

The pasta smelled good, it smelled exquisite. It looked just as appetizing as it did all the other times she made it, too. Nothing odd, nothing out of the ordinary. But the thought of her stirring in that mountain of mayonnaise into the sauce was just too repulsive to get over. It made his stomach turn. So when she moved to fill his plate, he shoo his head and held his hand up to stop her.

"No—no, thank you," he stammered, and her little, confused frown made his heart clench. God, not that face. "I'm not really feeling it this evening."

"But it's your favorite," Regina protested.

"I know, sweetheart. I just…" He what? He was nauseated by the _secret_ ingredient he discovered she added to the dish? Prank or not, he couldn't possibly tell her that. It was rude, and his rude days were far behind him. "I had a really heavy lunch earlier, I'm still a little full from it." What a lie that was. His lunch was a caesar salad and he was famished, but she couldn't pay him to eat that. Not even sex would convince him.

Funnily enough, it seemed like history was repeating itself.

He was that seven-year-old again, who gagged as soon as he discovered that the snack his mother bought him and he practically inhaled most of it were prawn crackers He fucking hated prawns, those little cockroaches of the sea. Decades later and that still hasn't changed. No matter how delicious he said they were and raved about them, realizing what the crackers were disgusted him.

It was the same thing with the pasta and the mayonnaise, and that decadent chocolate cake—that was so unfair. It was his favorite.

"Your nose is growing," Charlotte mumbled, then stuffed her face with some more of the pasta, but not even that was enough to hide her little smirk.

She was her mother's daughter, for sure.

He hushed her and, out of instinct, brushed a hand over his nose. Logically, he knew his nose wouldn't grow. It was impossible. But he was dumb enough to check anyways.

"What is she talking about?" Regina asked, folding her arms in front of her and lifting a brow.

If he learned anything about her all those years he'd known her for, was that the look on her face meant serious business.

He gulped and shook his head, brushing it off with a nervous, "Nothing!"

"That doesn't sound like 'nothing' to me," Regina argued.

"You always said we should be honest—"

"Not now, Charlotte," Robin hissed.

"No," Regina gritted through clenched teeth. "What are you hiding from me, Robin Locksley?"

"It's no—"

"If you say 'nothing' one more time, I swear to God."

There was no escaping Regina Mills' wrath, he knew better than to believe anything other than that. Whether he decided to lie to her about it or tell her the truth, she would flip. But the truth was embarrassing. The truth was stupid and childish. How was he supposed to tell her that the reason he found one of his favorite dishes repulsive was because he saw her add mayonnaise to it without making a fool out of himself? It was such a pathetic excuse.

"It's nothing," he insisted with a huff. "I told you, I just had a lot for lunch and I'm stuffed, Regina."

"Then why the hell did you come over and sit down at the dining table if you weren't hungry to begin with?" she shot back frustratedly.

"That's a really good question," Charlotte chimed in.

"Not now, Charlotte!"

They exclaimed in unison before Regina let out a loud growl, turned on her feet and marched her way upstairs. Both father and daughter jumped at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and the dog whined by their feet.

"Yeah. Me, too, buddy," Robin whispered.

* * *

It was three in the morning when Robin woke up to an empty bed. He thought nothing of it at first. Regina often woke up at odd hours during the night to go to the bathroom, but after five minutes of laying awake, he realized the en-suite couldn't be occupied with the lights still switched off, especially not by Regina, the woman who had the lamp on her nightstand turned on every single night because she was deathly afraid of complete darkness but wouldn't admit to it.

So he got up, off the bed and dragged himself out of the room, only then did he notice the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

Was she really watching a movie at almost four in the morning on a weekday?

Any other time, he would've ignored it, turned around and went back to bed, because that was ridiculous. He had to go to work in just a few hours! This time, though, he sleepily followed the music.

It grew louder with every step he took down the stairs, leading him into the kitchen, where he found his girlfriend, dressed in the same attire she wore to bed—a pair of pajama shorts and a long-sleeved, striped shirt—dancing and singing along to Ray Charles' _Hit The Road, Jack._

That was adorable. That was really adorable. The sight of her swaying and twirling around without a care in the world brought a smile to his face, and he didn't want to disturb her. The plan was to watch for a little longer and then head back to bed, let her be. But as soon as he saw her shaking her butt after flipping the sandwich in the pan, he chuckled.

The song continued solo as she stopped and stared at him, her eyes wide, her face as red as a beet. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Your sandwich," he reminded, pointing at the smoke behind her.

"Oh, shit!" Regina cursed, doing the most idiotic thing he'd seen her do yet by attempting to remove the sandwich from the pan with her bare hands before realizing the spatula was still clutched in her right one.

"You know," he began, switching the burner off before turning the faucet on. He moved his hand under the running water to test the temperature before grabbing hers and placing them under it, allowing the cold water to soothe her fingertips. "For someone who claims to be so smart, you're pretty dumb sometimes."

"Fuck you," she grumbled.

"If you insist," he responded with a smirk, and there it was, that smile he'd been dying to see since she started with her silent treatment. "What are you even doing in the kitchen at this time?"

"Bologna sandwich," she mumbled, then waved over at her food with a huff. "Which is all torched now."

"Nothing your favorite person can't fix." He reached for a fork and began scraping the burnt bits off the toast, just as he did when he was a child and whenever he accidentally burned Charlotte's sandwiches. "About dinner—"

"We don't have to talk about it."

"I want to." He moved the plate in front of her and watched as she grabbed a knife and sliced the sandwich in half. "It's just…I have this weird habit where, no matter how much I love something, if I discover it's made out of an ingredient I hate, I can't eat it again. Ever. I physically cannot swallow a bite of it." It was stupid, and he realized just how much when he said it out loud. That was no way to live. He'd be missing out on so many great things.

He told her the story about the prawn crackers, how he devoured almost the entire bag before his mother broke the news to him, and then proceeded to gag the whole ride back home. She laughed and, well, it wasn't as funny then as it was now. He was traumatized, swore off crisps in general for a little while, too, before finally caving in. He was very cautious after that, reading the bag of every bag and looking through every ingredient.

"Well, you skipped dinner, so here, have a slice," she offered, holding up one half of the sandwich. "No mayo, just cheese."

While he did love a good a bologna sandwich from time to time and her reassurance did help, he shook his head, deciding to opt for something else. "I think I'll be having this instead," he said, retrieving the leftover pasta.

He had to start somewhere, and what was better than starting with something the love of his life made?

"You sure? I really don't mind sharing my sandwich."

"Positive," he promised, throwing in a few heaping spoonfuls into the pot with a splash of milk to loosen it all up. "Even though something tells me I'm going to sorely regret having pasta at this time."

It'll be well worth it, though. That was one hell of a pasta dish.


End file.
